If you like one of
TERRY
's albums, you're going to like them all. As
Call Me Terry
proves once again, the combination of the four musicians and vocalists creates some kind of alchemical reaction that results in music that's a perfect blend of rambling
Flying Nun
jangle, gentle art punk experimentation, and oddly peaceful indie rock. Their music sounds like love and friendship, hanging out with mates, and telling tales as the sun sets and the cares of the day begin to fade just a bit. While their first album sounded like a lo-fi version of that ideal, this is slightly more polished, but only just enough so one can clearly hear the interplay between the unadorned vocals, the thrumming power of the rhythm section, and the crisp crackle of the guitars. Along with that, there is space for wheezy keyboards, skronking saxophone, and the occasional bit of extra noise to give the recordings a worn-in and comfortable feeling. Even the songs with a little bit of kick -- like the rollicking "Centuries" or the cranky punk rock blast "Excuses" -- have the soft texture of old denim. It's a neat trick to make music that sounds so familiar and comfortable without ever getting even remotely boring, and
do just that. They give the songs just enough bite, just enough odd energy, and just enough surprises -- like the brilliant slice of backroom glam "Gronk" that provides one of the album's highlights when the trilling synth line swoops in, or the pastoral psych-folk ballad "Days" that ends the album in a wisp of wood smoke -- to keep
from being a rehash of earlier glories. Instead, it's a brand-new glory, a brand-new chapter in an old favorite book that will never get old, only better and better. ~ Tim Sendra